Barchester Towers Anthony Trollope (iphone ebook reader .TXT) 📖

to extend the sphere of your useful influence. As I said before, it is most desirable that there should be but one opinion among the dignitaries of the same diocese. I doubt much whether I would accept such an appointment in any diocese in which I should be constrained to differ much from the bishop. In this case there would be a delightful uniformity of opinion.”

Mr. Slope perfectly well perceived that the bishop did not follow a word that he said, but nevertheless he went on talking. He knew it was necessary that Dr. Proudie should recover from his surprise, and he knew also that he must give him the opportunity of appearing to have been persuaded by argument. So he went on and produced a multitude of fitting reasons all tending to show that no one on earth could make so good a Dean of Barchester as himself, that the government and the public would assuredly coincide in desiring that he, Mr. Slope, should be Dean of Barchester, but that for high considerations of ecclesiastical polity it would be especially desirable that this piece of preferment should be so bestowed through the instrumentality of the bishop of the diocese.

“But I really don’t know what I could do in the matter,” said the bishop.

“If you would mention it to the archbishop; if you could tell his grace that you consider such an appointment very desirable, that you have it much at heart with a view to putting an end to schism in the diocese; if you did this with your usual energy, you would probably find no difficulty in inducing his grace to promise that he would mention it to Lord ⸻. Of course you would let the archbishop know that I am not looking for the preferment solely through his intervention; that you do not exactly require him to ask it as a favour; that you expect that I shall get it through other sources, as is indeed the case; but that you are very anxious that his grace should express his approval of such an arrangement to Lord ⸻.”

It ended in the bishop promising to do as he was bid. Not that he so promised without a stipulation. “About that hospital,” he said in the middle of the conference. “I was never so troubled in my life”⁠—which was about the truth. “You haven’t spoken to Mr. Harding since I saw you?”

Mr. Slope assured his patron that he had not.

“Ah well, then⁠—I think upon the whole it will be better to let Quiverful have it. It has been half-promised to him, and he has a large family and is very poor. I think on the whole it will be better to make out the nomination for Mr. Quiverful.”

“But, my lord,” said Mr. Slope, still thinking that he was bound to make a fight for his own view on this matter, and remembering that it still behoved him to maintain his lately acquired supremacy over Mrs. Proudie, lest he should fail in his views regarding the deanery, “but, my lord, I am really much afraid⁠—”

“Remember, Mr. Slope,” said the bishop, “I can hold out no sort of hope to you in this matter of succeeding poor Dr. Trefoil. I will certainly speak to the archbishop, as you wish it, but I cannot think⁠—”

“Well, my lord,” said Mr. Slope, fully understanding the bishop and in his turn interrupting him, “perhaps your lordship is right about Mr. Quiverful. I have no doubt I can easily arrange matters with Mr. Harding, and I will make out the nomination for your signature as you direct.”

“Yes, Slope, I think that will be best; and you may be sure that any little that I can do to forward your views shall be done.”

And so they parted.

Mr. Slope had now much business on his hands. He had to make his daily visit to the signora. This common prudence should have now induced him to omit, but he was infatuated, and could not bring himself to be commonly prudent. He determined therefore that he would drink tea at the Stanhopes’, and he determined also, or thought that he determined, that having done so he would go thither no more. He had also to arrange his matters with Mrs. Bold. He was of opinion that Eleanor would grace the deanery as perfectly as she would the chaplain’s cottage, and he thought, moreover, that Eleanor’s fortune would excellently repair any dilapidations and curtailments in the dean’s stipend which might have been made by that ruthless ecclesiastical commission.

Touching Mrs. Bold his hopes now soared high. Mr. Slope was one of that numerous multitude of swains who think that all is fair in love, and he had accordingly not refrained from using the services of Mrs. Bold’s own maid. From her he had learnt much of what had taken place at Plumstead⁠—not exactly with truth, for “the own maid” had not been able to divine the exact truth, but with some sort of similitude to it. He had been told that the archdeacon and Mrs. Grantly and Mr. Harding and Mr. Arabin had all quarrelled with “missus” for having received a letter from Mr. Slope; that “missus” had positively refused to give the letter up; that she had received from the archdeacon the option of giving up either Mr. Slope and his letter, or else the society of Plumstead Rectory; and that “missus” had declared, with much indignation, that “she didn’t care a straw for the society of Plumstead Rectory,” and that she wouldn’t give up Mr. Slope for any of them.

Considering the source from whence this came, it was not quite so untrue as might have been expected. It showed pretty plainly what had been the nature of the conversation in the servants’ hall; and, coupled as it was with the certainty of Eleanor’s sudden return, it appeared to Mr. Slope to be so far worthy of credit as to justify him in thinking that the fair widow would in all human probability accept his offer.

All this work was therefore to be done. It was desirable, he thought, that he should make his offer before it